


We Meet Again

by DrusillaStanden



Category: Cat Sebastian - Fandom, Hither Page
Genre: F/F, First Love, Kick-ass ladies, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrusillaStanden/pseuds/DrusillaStanden
Summary: This is a fan work which takes the two characters Cora and Edith, who are older ladies in Cat Sebastian's 'Hither, Page' and imagines their first meeting as adults. Slight spoilers for Hither, Page.
Relationships: Cora/Edith, Edith/Cora
Kudos: 5





	1. Across a crowded room

Well, thought Edith with a disapproving sniff, Cora Delacourt was a hussy and there was no denying it.

  
Cora had been flaunting those irritatingly perfect breasts around all weekend. If they were held in place by anything more substantial than hopes and wishes it was more than Edith hoped for herself and she was quite sure that Cora's collar was getting lower and her cleavage growing deeper with every hour. Edith had no doubt whatsoever that Cora knew exactly what she was doing, leaning over with that little pout she made when she was trying to be enticing, and almost spilling them both right into the lap of that detestable Lord Pomeray. And he wasn’t the only one. Oh no. Cora wasn’t limiting herself to one target. She would swear to it that Cora had flirted with every man here. She must be on the prowl for a husband. Edith knitted furiously, the needles stabbing through the wool of the shawl she was making.

  
What was undoubtedly the most infuriating thing about the whole business was that Cora had seen Edith looking. From Cora’s raised eyebrow and pert little smile, Edith was sure that Cora had quite mistakenly thought she was taking in the view rather than (as was obviously the case) staring in shock and disapproval at such indiscretion.

  
Cora had never been discrete. They’d only crossed over for one year at Miss Salmon’s finishing academy for young ladies but Edith couldn’t help remembering the older girl. She’d been a tearaway then as well. A fact that Edith steadfastly refused to smile at reminiscently. If she wasn’t sneaking off to meet God knew who after hours, stealing treats from the pantry and organising elicit midnight feasts and getting into all sorts of misadventures whenever they trooped into the village for weekly church, Cora was holding court with a group of the older girls and setting the whole room alight with her bewitching smile. Although that, of course, was nonsense. One did not set rooms on fire with facial expressions. Smiles had no magical powers. It was all a matter of muscles and nerves and teeth and lips and quite physical things. It was a most illogical figure of speech. Edith stabbed at her knitting. Exasperated she realised that she’d thrown a stitch and looked up to glare malevolently at the cause of her distraction. Just at that moment, Cora raised her head and met her eye. A smile flickered barely across her face. Insufferable woman.

  
Perhaps no-one else would have been able to see it but Edith had spent many misbegotten hours gazing shyly and surreptitiously at that face and there wasn’t an expression she wasn’t familiar with. She’d deny it, of course, if questioned. She’d even make a damn good go at denying it to herself. She pointedly looked away and turned her attention to her knitting.

  
‘It looks dead,’ came a laughing voice from beside her moments later. The faint smell of lavender and thyme filled Edith’s nostrils.

  
‘What?’ said Edith, her tone exasperated. She had no idea why, or even how, Cora had suddenly materialised beside her and she certainly had no idea what she was talking about. She was also suddenly, alarmingly aware that companions who had been generously invited to accompany their mistresses to Christmas house parties were really not supposed to glare at invited guests.

  
‘Whatever that monstrosity is that you’re making, Edith,’ said Cora lightly, running her hand over the alarming mix of green, orange, red and purple blobs on the shawl in Edith’s lap. ‘I’m sure even a boar wouldn’t take that much stabbing to take down.’

  
‘Oh, so you remember my name, do you?’

  
Edith was annoyed with herself as soon as the words left her mouth. She’d been piqued and, although she wouldn’t admit it, hurt when Cora had first arrived at the house party, blanked her and allowed herself to be introduced as to a perfect stranger complete with limpid and indifferent handshake. She’d expected at least the niceties of civil disinterest for a former schoolfellow. When she had received nothing of the sort, she’d responded in kind with the schooled indifference of the hired companion and faded into the background. She’d be damned if she let Cora know she cared in the slightest that she was unremembered or, even worse, deemed no longer worthy of recognition. Well, that’s what she’d promised herself as she had fumed in her bed that night. But here she was, as soon as she opened her mouth to talk to Cora, wearing her feelings pinned to her sleeve in colours as bright, vibrant and frankly embarrassing as those of the hideous shawl.

  
She watched a shadow of what half-seemed apology cross Cora’s face but her mouth was still smiling, ‘Of course. I’ve been introduced to you at least five times already.’  
She left a pause, leaving space for a reciprocating smile but Edith’s moment of weakness had passed and she gazed back, her face shut and schooled into a mask of positively bovine indifference.

  
Cora sighed a little and rolled her eyes. Edith thought that was a bit rich. She wasn’t the one flaunting herself around house parties, ignoring old friends and throwing her charms at everyone within sight. ‘Of course, I remember you, Edith. How am I forget my partner in crime on that notable night of the great pie robbery or my second in that dashed dancing duel of honour with whatever that sniff-necked girl’s name was…’ Her face crinkled in the effort to remember. Edith offered no help. ‘The thing is, Edith, the story I’ve given doesn’t include any time at Miss Salmon’s.’

  
Edith put her knitting down on her lap. Curiosity had always been her besetting sin. Well, one of them. Her mind offered her the intoxicating picture of Cora leaning over her as she had done with Lord Pomeray, closing the distance, touching those soft lips to hers as her own hands rose to free those perfect breasts… She shook her head. Not the time! She could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks and hoped that Cora wouldn’t notice. She pointed brusquely to a chair next to her own.

  
‘Won’t you be seated?’ She met Cora’s eyes, which looked all too speculative for her liking as they took in Edith’s face. She harrumphed. ‘You can’t really expect me to not want an explanation after that, can you. I think, dear Miss Trimble, that I have been very forbearing so far.’

  
Cora took her seat. She chuckled. ‘Yes, rather thought it was all blown out of the water when I arrived and saw you standing like a mouse in the shadows. But you took the Miss Harriet Trimble like a champ and I remembered that you’d always been a true heart. Thought I’d risk it and not cut and run quite yet.’

  
‘I’m flattered.’

  
Cora laughed. ‘No, you’re not but no matter. Look, I can’t talk to you now. I have to go and throw these charms in the odious Pomeray’s face again.’

  
‘And it wouldn’t do to be seen hobnobbing with the help,’ interjected Edith, a little bitterly. Screw discretion and dignity.

  
Cora looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘I don’t know what you think I want Pomeray for, love, but it’s not social-climbing. I assure you. I’d rather no-one asked inconvenient questions about how we know each other. And walls do proverbially have ears you know. Look, come to my room tonight. West wing. Second room on the right. I don’t expect any visitors this evening and I can offer a little explanation.’

  
Edith was undecided for all of a second. The life she led was filled with a complete absence not only of excitement but of anything whatsoever in the remote region of interesting. Scandalous women with obvious secrets and midnight assignations were a far too tempting diversion. She nodded and Cora smiled in response. Standing up, she took a piece of the shawl between thumb and forefinger, letting her thumb casually rest against Edith’s own. She leaned over, as if to inspect it, and with a laugh rippling through her voice. ‘My dear, before I go, you really must explain this.’ Before Edith could reply, Cora had leaned in closer and her lips almost touching Edith’s ear, she whispered, ‘I always thought you had impeccable taste.’

  
Edith gulped. She concentrated on the shawl, pointedly ignoring the tempting vision hovering so close. Daydreams coming half to life was really a little much for a rainy afternoon with no warning. ‘Mrs Hardthrastle,’ she said. ‘She designed it. I’m making it.’ She was proud of herself. She thought her tone had definitely been somewhere in the remote region of normal.

  
Edith felt Cora’s ready smile against her ear and then Cora was standing up and she was freed from the haze of warmth and lavender and longing that had briefly enclosed her. Cora raised her voice so as to be heard now, ‘So clever. Mrs Hardthrastle really does have an excellent eye for these things. I must ask her to design something for me!’ With a trilling laugh, she turned away and returned to the thick of the party, doing an excellent impression of a society lady who’d taken pity on a drab of a companion and was happy to escape. Edith almost believed it herself.


	2. Night-time assignations

That night, wrapped in an old flannel dressing robe and with her best cotton nightgown tangling irritatingly around her legs as she crept down a dark corridor, Edith rather thought that she wasn’t cut out for secret assignations. Her toes were bruised from knocking against sundry obstacles, she’d fallen over three times and she’d spent at least 15 minutes hiding behind various well-placed statues to avoid roving servants. Not to mention, she was lost.

  
After experiencing the pleasure of being completely ignored for the rest of the evening, Edith had retired to her small room. She had had time to ponder the course most likely to lead to success and least likely to lead to detection. She planned to wait a good half-hour after the soft shuffle of opening doors, servants’ feet and irritated calls had died down to be sure that she wasn’t seen gallivanting around in her nightdress. She’d undressed slowly and picked her sneaking attire carefully. She’d spent a darn sight too long thinking about how she looked, she thought now irritably, rather than on the practicalities of sneaking. She was out of practice.

  
It was stupid really but she hadn’t wanted Cora seeing her looking like she’d dragged herself through several hedges and then stolen some spare clothes off an old lady’s washing line. As most of her night clothes had been darned to within an inch of their lives and tended towards the serviceable and old-fashioned, this was no mean task. She rather thought she’d failed anyway. She’d hoped the nightgown, the least darned of the lot, would looking flowing and elegant but it seemed instead designed to trip its wearer with alarming regularity. It was far longer than was practical for anything other than hopping into bed. She was sure that Cora would wear some ridiculous froth of lace or silk or something equally decadent. From her comment about evening visitors, Edith gathered that her bed was often occupied and Cora was never one to avoid a show. Hussy, she thought with what she told herself was disapproval rather than affection. She would also be prepared to deny under oath that she was envious of the men so favoured as to be invited for something other than night time briefings.

  
Her pivotal mistake was not the nightgown but the lack of light. The house was lit by oil lamps while the guests were awake but they were turned down when the guests had been tucked into their beds. Or, in Edith’s case, they had tucked themselves in. She had decided in her cosily lit room that a candle was sure to be nothing but a giveaway. However, wandering the darkened halls, she had managed to walk into what, she thought irritably, was an inordinate and frankly ostentatious number of tables, ornamental vases and statues. Moreover, these old houses were rabbit warrens. Added to by successive generations of equally delusional amateur architecture enthusiasts, they resembled nothing so much as labyrinths. Sensible people would know better than to either live in these monuments to inconvenience or give people woefully vague directions.  
Edith thought she was in the West wing but she couldn’t be quite sure. There’d been too many right angles, corridors which looked (or rather felt) exactly the same in the dark and two unexpected flights of steps to be manoeuvred in moving between parts of the house. She could see a light ahead though and hoped that Cora had been more sensible than her and left out a candle so she didn’t mistake the room. As she rounded the corner, however, she discovered a corridor where not one but several lamps were still burning. She felt suddenly very exposed, one of the ladies must surely still be awake if the servants hadn’t yet dimmed the lights. She scurried towards the second door on the right. Edith hesitated for a second. Was she meant to knock? But no, that would hardly be discrete. She put out a tentative hand and tried to turn the handle with as little noise as possible.

  
The door opened easily and she crept inside. The room was dark and she briefly wondered if she’d made a mistake in waiting so long. Maybe Cora and her satin finery had taken themselves to bed. But just then the bed creaked, two feet hit the floor and she heard the unmistakable sound of a tinder box. Before her eyes could adjust to the light of the candle, the night-gowned figure was heading towards her and the smell of cedar-wood, tobacco and whiskey hit her nostrils. Wrong room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive comments are welcome


	3. A mystery appears

Edith took a step backwards, mortified. No wonder all the lights had been on. She’d been too focused on getting out of the light to wonder about it. Most of the men had shuffled off after dinner to play billiards or cards or simply drink themselves into stupidity. Whatever lordlings did of an evening. There was probably still a gaggle of them roistering around downstairs somewhere, their servants waiting half-asleep and all-resentful for them to finally appear and be tipped into bed. She had no idea who this one was and she didn’t really want to find out. She wished there was some way to turn back the clock and make the last 5 minutes of stupid decisions disappear.

‘What have we here?’ came Pomeray’s nasal tones and she half shuddered in disgust. He was a creeping sort of a man, with wet greedy eyes, and a manner that combined condescension, self-importance and avidity to the worst possible effect. Two days of watching him ogle and paw at Cora hadn’t done him any favours in her eyes either. She thought for an instant of playing the maid, acting lost and bowing her way out. He was just the type of weaselly rascal that would find a housemaid, or a lady’s maid for that matter, fair game, however, and she thought better of it. Not that she couldn’t deal with a drunk buffoon half her size – she had a hell of a pair of lungs and had long since learned the value of a well-placed knee – but she would rather not have to bother with such unpleasantness.

‘I’m sorry, Lord Pomeray, I was looking for the library.’

‘The library?’ his voice was bored. ‘You could have thought of a better excuse, my dear.’ He stepped forward and brought up his candle. 

‘It’s not an excuse,’ said Edith, dismayed to think he was under the impression she had come to his room deliberately, dressed in nothing more substantial than a nightgown and a tattered dressing robe.

‘Of course not,’ he returned, his tone snide. ‘And no doubt you weren’t looking for any papers either?’

Edith blinked at him in confusion.

‘Come, don’t play the innocent with me, my dear,’ he returned and she saw a flash of something in his right hand. A knife. He was pointing a knife at her. He smiled at the startled look on her face. ‘That’s right. You didn’t know what kind of man you were dealing with, did you? But I’m no fool to be hoodwinked by a mouse-like demeanour. I’ve seen you watching me. We both know why you’re here. But the papers have already been passed and I have every intention of leaving here tonight without any interference from a meddling bitch like you. Over there!’ he finished, gesturing to the bed with a flick of the knife.

‘I don’t understand,’ Edith stuttered. ‘What papers? Put the knife down, please. You’re drunk.’ She stood where she was, keeping a wary eye on the knife.

‘Do I have to cut you to make you realise I’ll use it?’ He hissed. He gestured to the bed. ‘Sit down. You and I are going to have a little chat and if you’re very good, you’ll get out of here alive. Either way, you won’t be running off with any tales tonight.’

Edith decided that discretion was the better part of valour. He was far too focused on her now for her to risk the knife but she had every hope of finding a more propitious moment. She stepped cautiously towards the bed and sat down on the edge.

‘Happy?’ she said, building on her sense of anger and ill-usage. Fear was a perfectly useless emotion she had always found. And really, if it wasn’t just like Cora to inveigle her into wandering around a house at night, freezing her toes off and getting knives waved at her by idiots who were either delusional or had her confused with someone else.  
Pomeray grinned and it was a sight she hoped never to see again. It made her flesh crawl a little but she maintained her impassive stare. He moved away from her, his arm still holding the knife in her direction and his eyes locked on her face. He was moving to shut the door and, Edith rather feared, lock it. Before he had chance to shut it, however, a delicate hand came from behind him and wrapped itself around his face clasping what looked like a crumpled handkerchief. He fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

‘Odious man,’ came Cora’s familiar voice. She stepped over him, giving him a kick in the stomach for good measure. ‘Come and give me a hand, Edie, we need to get his door closed and he’s quite in the way.’

Edith took stock of the new situation, allowed herself a quick breath of relief and then stood up grabbing the unconscious man’s other leg and taking a quite unseemly glee in dragging him sharply across the floor. She hoped he had carpet burn. Repulsive little worm.

‘Well, there we go,’ said Cora, her tone cheerful. She looked at Edith and put a quick comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘He didn’t hurt you, did he? No need to be afraid, you know, he won’t be causing you any more problems.’

‘I’m not afraid,’ replied Edith indignantly. ‘Of that loathsome little hobgoblin?’

Cora let out an unladylike laugh. ‘Well, that quite blows away my dream of figuring as the rescuer of the damsel in distress.’ 

Edith couldn’t help smiling at the theatrically woebegone expression on Cora’s face. But wasn’t inclined to let her get away with it that easily. This whole evening had been decidedly unpleasant and the blame lay squarely at the door of Cora Delacourt. She wasn’t quite sure how... but she had a strong self of ill-usage and she wouldn’t have been anywhere but her bed except for Cora’s invitation. 

‘What on earth did you mean by sending me here?’

Cora’s smile broadened, ‘I didn’t send you here, old girl, as well you know. Never knew such a one for getting lost. Do you remember the time you ended up in old Salmon’s bedchamber?’ Her tone was reminiscent.

Edith harrumphed and Cora giggled. ‘You always were a crosspatch too.’

‘Well,’ said Edith with a huff, ‘if you don’t think I’ve cause after being held at knifepoint…’

‘I never said that, Edie, and besides you were always quite a delightful crosspatch.’

Edith couldn’t help a blush that she hoped was entirely hidden by the darkness. Her tendency to turn into a beetroot at the slightest provocation was highly unhelpful. Especially true when one was trying to get to the bottom of a mystery involving a man with a knife, some evidently vital papers and what was clearly chloroform without being distracted by the incredible idea that your girlhood crush was flirting with you.

Edith cleared her throat and decided to change the subject. ‘It was the strangest thing, Cora. He kept going on about some papers. He must have thought I was someone else. But seen as he said he didn’t have the papers… I have no idea why he was so obsessed with me wanting to take them from him.’

‘Dammit,’ swore Cora softly. ‘He’s already passed them on.’

Edith let out an exasperated sigh and sat down, kicking Pomeray’s leg out of the way so she could get to the bed. ‘Of course,’ she mused, ‘you would be mixed up in it. I had this faint gleam of hope that you just went around with chloroform dipped hankies against the depravity of the times… You best tell me what’s going on, Cora. If you’re in trouble, I’ll help you as best I can. Did he have some incriminating papers or something?’

Cora came and sat beside and Edith was not at all distracted by the warmth of her pressed against her arm or the smell of lavender and thyme which still clung to her. She turned to look at Cora, who was uncharacteristically silent. Putting her hand out, she took Cora’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. ‘Honestly, you know, I’d help you with anything. And I assure you, after the incident with the Grovesend boys nothing you did could ever shock me.’ She waggled her eyebrows. ‘Silent as the grave me, you know. Did that worm do anything to you? If he did, I will personally take great pleasure in grinding his balls into the floor before I leave.’

Cora laughed. ‘Nothing of the sort, Edith. Your ball grinding services will not be required.’ She chuckled. ‘You always were a practical soul. If you’re not shocked by me casually chloroforming a chap in his own room, I doubt there’s a great deal that would shock you. But I really shouldn’t tell you, you know.’

Edith tried to smile casually and moved to take away her hand. Cora obviously didn’t need any comfort she could give. And she wasn’t willing to take any help, it seemed. As she tried to move away, Cora tightened her grip. ‘No, don’t leave in a huff, Edie. Look, help me move this idiot into bed. We’re going to have to hope he thinks this was all a cheese dream. Then we’ll go to my room and I’ll tell you the abridged version. Dammit, rules are made to be broken, you know.’

Edith didn’t quite think that was true but certain rules were absolute rubbish. That she was sure on. And any rule that meant Cora had some all-consuming secret that she, Edith, could know nothing off certainly fit into that category. 

‘Alright.’

‘You Trojan,’ said Cora and leaning forward gave her a swift peck on the lips before standing, dragging Edith up with her and standing over the prone body of Pomeray contemplatively. ‘Right, here’s what we’re going to do…’

Instructions followed and together they heaved and pulled the dead weight onto the bed, settled him comfortably and straightened the room to mask all signs of struggle. Cora thoughtfully put his knife under his pillow. 

Edith moved with brisk efficiency, hoping that her heart couldn’t be heart beating frantically in its bid to exit her chest. What was a little kiss between friends? Nothing. Nothing at all. Someone just had to tell her heart that.

On the way out, Cora took the key, locked the door and slipped it into her pocket. Pomeray wasn’t getting out until morning.


	4. A secret Shared

As it turned out, she’d taken the wrong turn about five turns before arriving at Pomeray’s room. She had no idea how she was going to get back to her room but that was for the future. Cora seemed to move through the darkness like a cat and Edith felt like a great galumphing idiot as she tripped along behind her, her hand held out in front of her, holding tight to the fingers of her guide.

Cora’s room was a dashed sight nicer than Edith’s. The upgrade from companion to lady, she supposed. The furniture was old-fashioned but luxuriously upholstered and there were rich thick carpets underfoot. The four-poster bed looked like it could fit three people. For a split second, Edith’s brain focused in on the question of whether the bed had ever had three occupants, the firelight gleaming on Cora’s joyful face, a tangle of limbs and… Scrubbing the image from her mind, she made the appropriate sounds of approbation. 

‘Lovely room.’ 

Cora laughed. ‘Isn’t it? A sight better than those old three-to-a-dorm rooms at Salmon’s. Do you remember having to break the ice in the winter? Lord, what a pinchpenny!’

Edith wanted to smile but she composed her face into a seriousness. ‘I did not come here to reminisce, Cora Delacourt, so just you tell me what you’ve been up to!’

‘Well, it might take a bit of telling. Come on, let’s get under the covers, we’re going to freeze sitting out here and the fire’s almost burned down for the night.’

Edith pursed her lips. It was a sensible suggestion. Very reminiscent of old times. The girls had used to crowd into each other’s beds at school for warmth or to exchange secrets. 

‘Alright.’ 

Edith went round to the other side of the ridiculously large bed and pulled the cover back. Wrapping her dressing robe more tightly around her, she got into the bed and lay back. Cora stripped off her own dressing gown and Edith was unsurprised to see quite impractical night garments.

‘Well, no wonder you’re getting cold if you’re wearing scraps of lace stitched together with hopes and prayers,’ she muttered darkly.

Cora laughed and Edith felt the bed dip as Cora settled her weight on it. 

‘Yes, not good for the cold but you have to admit, it does wonders for my figure.’ Cora shimmied her shoulders suggestively where she sat on the edge of the bed. Her tone grew more casual, pointedly so. ‘And it does help with the seductions, you know.’

‘Seductions?’ Edith gulped, perfectly sure her face was aflame. She pulled the quilt up to her chin and peeked out over the top and immediately wished she hadn’t. Dreams didn’t just pop into bed with you any old day and hiding from them under the quilt was perhaps one of the most illogical things she’d ever done.

Cora swung her legs into bed and lay down. She didn’t meet Edith’s eyes but stared at the ceiling. ‘All part of the job, you know.’

Edith felt an uncomfortable wave of disappointment seep through her soul. Of course, Cora hadn’t meant her. She was hardly likely to attract a goddess in silk and lace with a perfect smile and an irresistible flair. Idiot. She focused on the last words.

‘Your job? What is it you do, Cora?’

Cora turned to look at her. ‘It’s not at all a respectable one, my dear. I’ve slept with kings, princes, servants and soldiers all for the cause. You wouldn’t approve, I’m sure. You were always very sniffy when I had my little adventures at Salmon’s. It’s not the sort of thing a respectable girl like you would want anything to do with.’ Her tone was bantering but it was threaded through with something Edith thought might just be wistful.

‘When have I ever been respectable?’ said Edith. In for a penny, in for a pound. ‘I was jealous, not disapproving, you idiot.’

‘Really?’ Cora’s tone was studiedly indifferent but Edith wasn’t fooled.

‘Of course. I thought I gave myself away a hundred times a day.’

‘Not once. You were always so serious. You could be a dour thing. But there was an imp of mischief in you… God, I wish I’d realised sooner. The adventures we could have had!’  
‘I’m not sure my idea of an adventure and yours would quite have tallied, Cora,’ said Edith, thinking of the Grovesend boys. 

‘I wasn’t thinking a ménage a trois, Edie,’ said Cora with a roguish grin. Edith wondered idly if her face might have actually caught on fire. Cora gave a delighted laugh. ‘Pleased to see I can still shock you. Your sang froid was beginning to appear quite prodigious.’

Seemingly Edith had a reputation to maintain. ‘Of course,’ she said ponderingly, trying to ignore her tell-tale flaming cheeks, ‘I’d most likely have said no. Especially if you were choosing the third, Cora. You always had execrable taste. Those Grovesend boys…’

It was Cora’s turn to look slightly shocked and Edith reflected gloatingly that her bluff had been well and truly called.

Cora fixed her eyes on the canopy above them. ‘You know, Edie, there’s nothing I’d like more right now than to kiss that achingly tempting mouth of yours. And not because someone’s paying me. Not because there’s any duty or necessity in it. But… there’s a rather urgent case of espionage to be resolved first, a lot of top secret information to tell you that I really shouldn’t and a lot of dirty laundry to be aired which will make you glad to see the back of me.’

‘Why are you telling me?’ asked Edith, trying to find the most salient question.

Cora hesitated before replying. ‘Because seeing you reminded me that I am Cora Delacourt. I have a hundred names and a hundred personalities but there’s some me left and you knew her. I want you to see me, now, as I am. And with you here, I’m more than just a shadow, stealing people’s friendship, or their love, or their lust with an endless set of masks.’ She shook her head as if to shake away the thoughts. ‘God, that’s maudlin. Must be the nostalgia. Anyway, I know you can keep a secret. You never told anyone about the pies!’

Edith smiled at this sally but her heart hurt and she wanted to hug the other woman to her and protect her from a world which used her talents but had been quite happy to throw away the sparkling girl who wielded them. The girl she’d known. The girl lying beside her.

Edith settled for taking her hand. ‘Tell me.’

Cora told her. She told her about the agency and her missions. She was brief and to the point and Edith sensed a world of stories which she vowed she’d hear one day. Cora didn’t make the job sound any more glamorous than it was. Of course, there was the travel, and the occasional luxury, and the debonair spies she met and the thrill of the chase but Cora didn’t romanticise. She mixed the glamorous with the mundane and the horrendous blithely. Edith wasn’t sure when she’d started to cry – when Cora calmly told her about being imprisoned in France and burning away with fever in a crowded jail or when she had had to dig a bullet out of her own side or when she’d been asked to seduce a Duke known for beating his mistresses – but she let the tears fall silently and hoped Cora didn’t notice. Cora was clever and gifted and seductive and charming. She was wonderful and daring and brave and quite free of any sense of self preservation, it seemed. Edith vowed right then that if she had any say in it at all, Cora wouldn’t be wandering off alone any more. She needed someone to protect her, protect the bits that no-one saw, and Edith was determined it would be her. She might not be the stuff that dreams were made of but she was damned if she’d let the world take the woman she’d always loved away from her and turn her into something she so evidently didn’t want to become. Not without a fight. And she was nothing if not obstinate. She’d always thought it was a curse but it turned out that it might well be a blessing.

‘You’re awfully silent,’ said Cora warily. ‘A bit too much. I’ll understand if you want nothing further to do with me though I could use your help tonight.’

‘Just try and get rid of me,’ said Edith with a somewhat feral smile.

Cora looked at her quizzically and then quickly laid out the details of the case. Secrets for sale. Nations at risk. Her everyday business and a whole new view of the world for Edith. The question was who had the papers now. Cora had already narrowed the suspect pool down to two men. When she gave their names to Edith, Edith repeated the second confidently. 

‘Colonel Cumberton.’

‘What?’ said Cora with surprise. ‘Why are you so sure?’

Edith smirked at her. ‘There are some benefits to being a mousy nobody rather than the cynosure of all eyes, you know.’

‘I didn’t notice you complaining about the view,’ said Cora wiggling her eyebrows and patting her breasts through the quilt for emphasis.

Edith rolled her eyes and decided to ignore the provocation. ‘I was in the orangery with some mending. They didn’t even see me. Hushed tones and all that but there were some quite urgent whispers going on. I presumed it was an issue of gambling debts.’

‘Right,’ said Cora, sitting up with alacrity. ‘Time to nip this in the bud.’

She swung herself off the bed and Edith tried not to stare as she stripped and changed into a serviceable pair of men’s trousers and shirt with both efficiency and speed. Cora turned to the wardrobe and dug around in the boxes in the bottom. She came out brandishing the smallest pistol Edith had ever seen. 

Cora caught her look of surprise. ‘Custom-made,’ she said lovingly.

Edith nodded, not quite sure how to respond. 

‘There’s going to have to be a teeny tiny bit of killing. He is a traitor, dear. The odious Pomeray has no idea what he's got himself mixed up in.' She shook her head. 'I hope you don’t mind too much.’

Edith remained unclear on the correct response but shook her head.

Cora went to the window and opened it. 

‘Can I do anything, Cora?’ Edith asked, a little lost. 

‘Yes, be a dear, can you twist the sheets up, I’ll be needing a rope.’

Edith got out of bed and dutifully began to twist up the sheets. Cora soon came to help her and they quickly had a serviceable rope. Cora tied it off on the bedpost and stretched it out of the window. She had one leg on the sill before Edith realised what she was doing. 

‘Stop!’ she cried out sotto voce.

‘What?’ asked Cora.

‘You’re not going out like that, are you? It’s perishing! You’ll catch a chill. You must have something you can wear.’

Cora gave a laugh and strode across the room. She pressed her laughing lips against Edith’s and then pulling back, she laid a hand on Edith’s jaw. ‘I’m not going out for a stroll, Edie, I’m off to kill a man and you’re worried I might catch a chill.’ She laughed. ‘God, woman, I think I’m half in love with you already.’ She turned and headed to the window. With one leg over the sill, she turned back. ‘Things will be hot for me tomorrow. I’ll have to scarper before dawn but I’ll be coming back for my stuff before I leave. Will you still be here?’ She tried to make the question sounds casual.

‘Yes,’ said Edith. Once Cora had disappeared over the window ledge, she added softly, ‘Always.’  



	5. An idyll by firelight

Edith waited, trying to ignore her anxiety, and not strain at every sound that broke the heavy silence of the night. 

She had to be useful. She turned her attention to the fire. Cora would be cold when she got back. Settling down before the fire, she found the kindling and started to coax the banked embers to produce a flame. Having succeeded, she placed more kindling on the fire and a log from the pile to one side. Next, she turned her attention to the bed. Cora might not have time to sleep but it couldn’t be good gallivanting around without any at all and Edith thought she might persuade her. She decided to see if there were spare sheets. There was a dressing room to one side and in a great chest shoved against one wall, she found extra sheets. She placed them on the bed and replaced everything. She wasn’t lingering over the pillow which was heady with the scent of lavender and thyme. It was just a particularly recalcitrant pillow which absolutely refused to be fluffed. Damn thing.

She heard a pop and a shiver ran through her. She tried not to think about what it was but she started to listen more carefully again, waiting for the tell-tale sound of Cora’s ascent. Climbing up must be harder. She had every intention of pulling her up as much as possible.

She soon heard the scratch of Cora’s feet against the wall and went over to the window. She signalled down her intention to pull and Cora gave her a nod. When she finally appeared at the window, Cora was slightly winded but she smiled and clapped Edith on the shoulder. ‘Well, that’s a lot quicker with a helper. Once in Spain, I had to climb up and down eight stories… Jesus, that was a climb. I thought my arms might actually fall off.’

Edith smiled and began to untie the sheets, preparing to fold them up and return these old ones to the chest. Cora walked towards the fire. ‘You got it going again, you marvel!’ she said. She held up a thin sheaf of papers. ‘This is what all the fuss was about.’ 

Sitting cross-legged on the rug before the fire, she removed the fire guard, and started to feed the papers one by one into the flames. Edith came and sat beside her and looked into the fire. Cora leant against her, feeding the flames lazily with one hand.

‘Sat like this, I can almost imagine we were a normal couple. An evening in front of the fire. Buttered toast in our past or our future.’ 

Edith answered with a non-committal hum. 

‘You don’t think so?’

‘I don’t think we’d ever be a normal couple, Cora. But a fire like this, an evening like this, that we can have.’

Cora placed the last paper in the flames and turned to look up at Edith, the firelight casting a dancing tapestry of light and dark across her face. With what Edith felt to be an exquisite inevitability, Cora closed the gap between them and placed her lips against Edith’s own. The kiss was tentative at first but soon it deepened. Edith was happy for Cora to lead. She had no idea what she was doing but nothing had ever felt more right or more beautiful. Her gown was taken from her and she forgot to feel embarrassed about darned patches or her own body laid bare in the firelight. Cora’s hands were magic. The drew feeling from every inch of her. And her clever mouth on Edith’s breasts had her heart singing with pleasure. 

Edith wanted to give Cora the same pleasure that she was experiencing. Every nerve on fire from her wandering caresses. She echoed Cora’s movements and was rewarded with sighs of pleasure and quickening breath. Cora drew back. Rising, she held out her hand and pulled Edith up with her. She pulled her gently towards the bed and lifting the quilt, pushed her back against the sheets. And they tumbled into the bed, fresh made for this new start. 

Cora’s fingers and her clever tongue set fire to every part of Edith’s body until there was nothing in the whole universe but her burning body and the siren whose touch set her ablaze. Her pleasure reached it peak with Cora’s lips on her on and her fingers moving inside her. Still trembling she turned her attention once again to Cora’s body and following her movements, listening to her pleas and the softly whispered requests, she had the pleasure of seeing Cora as lost in passion as herself. When Cora too had found her pleasure, spread open beneath her, begging for her touch, they turned to face each other and held each other. The weight of Cora’s head on her shoulder felt achingly sweet.

Edith must have fallen asleep and she woke to feel Cora running a delicate finger along her back, tracing patterns on her spine.

‘I have to go, Edie. They’ll find him when they wake. I shouldn’t have stayed so long.’

Edith turned to face her. ‘Do you regret that you did?’

Cora looked her in the eye and raised a hand to her cheek. ‘Never.’ Edith was surprised to see something suspiciously like pain cross her face. ‘It was beautiful. You are beautiful. We…we were beautiful.’

‘We still are.’

‘I can’t leave this life, Edith. I like it. I’m good at it. I can’t be faithful to you. If they tell me to seduce a man, I’ll seduce him and don’t think I can’t enjoy it. I can.’ Her tone was challenging but there was an undercurrent of longing.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Edith. She leaned over and wiped a tear from Cora’s face. ‘It doesn’t matter if you sleep with every man and woman in the world. I mean, be safe...obviously. But it doesn’t matter. There’s no condition for my heart, Cora.’ She paused. In for a penny… ‘It’s always been yours.’

Cora met her gaze and slowly began to smile. The expression half wondering. 

‘I said I was half in love already… I’m all the way in now. This heart is yours. Whatever I do, I promise that’ll still be true,’ she said softly.

Edith didn’t have words so she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

‘I have to go. But I’ll find you. I’ll find a way. There are some who might need persuading round to my way of seeing things.' The light in her eyes was martial. 'Excellent cover though... Whoever I am next will need a companion. I'll make sure of it.’

‘Companion extraordinaire, right here,’ said Edith smiling, pointing to herself. 

‘Yes, indeed, those were excellent credentials you gave me last night,’ Cora replied with a wink. ‘Come on, love, time for me to flee and you to put on the mask of respectable and boring.’

Edith laughed and Cora followed suit, their voices mingled together in the pre-dawn hush. The companion and the assassin. 

Watching Cora as she prepared for her departure with what was evidently practised efficiency, Edith let her mind wonder. Idylls spun across her imagination. Many of them involved roaring fires and firelight flickering on shared secrets and shared pleasures. Her mind lighting on a particularly seasonal image, she suddenly remembered the day. ‘Merry Christmas!’ 

‘Merry Christmas, indeed,’ returned Cora. Pressing a kiss to Edith’s lips, she headed towards the door. Turning back, she looked at Edith with a crooked smile. ‘Never been much of a believer in Christmas miracles but you might just count, Edie. To a hundred more!’

**Author's Note:**

> If you have read and enjoyed this, I appreciate any feedback. I loved these characters and hope they get a stand alone in Cat's universe but I needed more of them now! I'd love to see more people writing them so if you know of any, recommend them to me!


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